


denying won't

by churb



Series: Aftergame Drabble Thingies [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, also pls read the a/ns it would help a lot, awkward twelve year olds doing awkward twelve year old things, yeah;; aha i suck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churb/pseuds/churb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled "The Troubles Of Being Twelve Years Old And Just On The Cusp Of Puberty (And Therefore Thus Having A Worryingly Persistent Sex Drive) When You've Spent Your Entire Life Chained To A Wall In One Room And Thus Have No Idea How Romance Or Sex Works And Nobody Will Tell You Or Help You Out Because You're Kind Of A Dick"</p><p>Alternatively, alternatively titled: "At Least Other Kids Have Parents To Explain This Shit To Them"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. it seems like peace is the only thing i'll never know

**Author's Note:**

> rolls in
> 
> why do i ship this
> 
> rolls back out
> 
> (anyway this is set after the game, in a post-apocalyptic setting, in a little hotel the players have sort of adapted as their home. all will be explained in chapter two.)

**== > Be the cherub.**  
  
Well that's just fucking  _racist._  Not to mention ambiguous as to which one you're referring to. (It's also stupid as fuck. You can't just suddenly  _be_  other people with no explanation, your previous soul battle with your sibling notwithstanding.)  
  
**== > Fine. Be the angry cherub.**  
  
Also racist, and frankly insulting.You do have a name, you know. But you suppose you have bigger things to worry about.   
  
Your name is Caliborn and you have not spoken to another person in the past five days. (And that was just one word responses.The last time you used an actual sentence? Who the fuck knows.)  
  
There is a reason for this. It's not like you don't  _want_ to socialise. Okay, yeah, maybe you don't. Everyone else is an asshole. But you would think that now you're actually free to leave your bedroom, you would.  
  
Plot twist: You don't.  
  
Anyway. There is a reason. But you're not exactly about to admit what that reason is. Just  _thinking_ about it makes you feel shivery and awkward. And a whole lot of other stuff you would really rather not go in to.  
  
You don't know what the problem is. It's not like there's anyone to hear you. Maybe the problem is admitting it to yourself.  
  
_Fine._  
  
You may possibly find Dirk Strider very slightly more tolerable than the rest of his group. No, it does  _not_ go deeper than that! Shut up! Shut up shut the  _fuck_  
  
You're in love with him.  
  
...oops. Well. Now that it's out in the open (and by that, you mean, it's floating around in your head, not unlike how it has been for the past fucking  _month_ ) you see no problem with possibly allowing yourself exactly one minute and three seconds to consider what exactly you're going to do about it, before pushing it out of your memory altogether.  
  
Hurry up. You only have forty seconds left.  
  
Your main problem is, though, that you're left desperately trying to figure out _why_. It's not like any facet of his personality is at all attractive to you. He's stupid and an utter tool and he has stupid hair and you hate him and he is _incredibly_  fucking hot.  
  
_Auuuugh._ Usually it's other people you want to hit in the head with blunt objects, not  _yourself._ You have  _got_ to stop this. (By now you've stopped timing yourself. You really could not care less.)  
  
So instead you roll onto your back on the bed (these things are so weird, but you guess it beats sleeping sitting up. You used to get the most ridiculous back pain) and stare at the ceiling thoughtfully, which you're pretty sure is what you're supposed to do in situations like these.   
  
Obviously, you think, ignoring him is your best strategy. If you just don't speak to him and totally ignore the problem, it'll go away. You are quite, quite assured of this.  
  
_Beeeep._  
  
Oh  _hell_ to the no. You sigh, grabbing the little device (what even  _is_ it? it's little and rectangular and Dirk gave it to you because apparently he obtained another better one. Something to do with the Lalonde bitch. You don't know. You don't care.)  
  
_Anyway_ , moving  _off_ the subject of the Very Slightly Tolerable Strider for a moment, you open up the pesterchum app and fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK.  
  
\--timaeusTestified started pestering undyingUmbrage at 13:10--  
TT: Dude.  
TT: Are you actually going to come out of your room at any point in the forseeable future?  
TT: Lunch is ready. I haven't seen you eat anything in about a week.  
  
Oh, cute. He's acting  _concerned._ How  _adorable_ (eugh no why does he even  _care_ goddamit).  
  
uu: WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE.  
  
The keyboard is fiddly, and it makes typing your original quirk difficult, so you stick to this one. At least now you've actually figured out this elusive Caps Lock key, on account the Shift doesn't work unless you press it between every. single. letter.  
  
TT: A better question is what the fuck you're even doing in there.  
TT: I would've thought you'd be the first to want to explore.  
TT: I mean, if you're doing something in there that's more important than eating, please don't let me stop you.  
TT: Or you could be mature, stop sulking and get your ass down here.  
TT: What are you even sulking about?  
  
Rude.  
  
uu: I AM NOT SULKING.  
TT: Dude, you are totally sulking. I can tell.  
TT: I've known you for like, a year.  
TT: Wait. Speaking of which, are you still 11?  
uu: NO.  
TT: Oh. Happy belated birthday then, I guess.  
TT: It would have been a lot easier if you actually told me when it was.  
  
The reason for that, you think, is that you're not really entirely sure yourself. You just generally have it anytime you feel like it. You do try to have it around the same time in the year, though, to not complicate things.  
  
You don't need to celebrate stupid things like that anyway. Your age means nothing.  
  
TT: Seriously, though, what's up. Usually you go on these long verbose tangents about random shit.  
TT: Or ask me to draw you porn.  
TT: You're being strangely quiet.  
  
You don't respond, opting to roll back onto your stomach and bury your face in the pillow again, ignoring the various dings indicating you have a new message.  
  
Eventually, about five minutes and 14 dings later, you pick up the device again and squint at it.  
  
TT: And now you're just ignoring me.  
TT: Very rude.  
TT: That kind of sounds like something you'd say actually.  
TT: Except in caps and probably with a worrying number of full stops.  
  
There's a gap of about two minutes. You were enjoying that brief moment of peace.  
  
TT: Dude, seriously.   
TT: I'm going to come in in a moment.  
  
You freeze.

TT: I'm going to give you a few minutes, though.  
TT: You're not usually this quiet.  
TT: You're usually pretty quick to fire back, actually.  
TT: So this is pretty strange, for you.  
  
And another pause. It's not for long, though. Not long enough for you to have noticed anyway.  
  
TT: Seriously, just give me some indicator that you're actually alive.  
TT: I don't really want to barge in there.  
TT: I mean I would assume you're sleeping but you literally just spoke to me like three minutes ago.  
TT:  Do you guys even pass out like that? Whatever.  
  
Ding.  
  
TT: One more minute then I'm going in. I hope your door isn't locked.  
  
You sigh.  
  
uu: FINE. I'M HERE.  
TT: Great. Glad to know you're alive.  
TT: I'm coming in anyway.  
TT: I think we probably need to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that sucked


	2. you knowingly mocked the way i felt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway here's the second part thing

You suppose you should probably jump back here and explain some things.  
  
Basically, the place you now call your home is an abandoned building of some sort which was just sort of Magically There on the new post-sburb hell planet. This is all very convinient, you think.  
  
Apparently it wasn't liveable in straight away, which you would have supposed. There was a lot of work to be done on it. Not that you would know about that part. You arrived a little late to the party.  
  
And by that, you mean that you don't know how long passed between your losing the game and finding solace there, but you do know that eventually you got injured somehow (possibly attacked by some leftover creature? you're not sure) and after a considerable amount of time bleeding to death on the ground someone eventually found you and put you in the infirmary thing.  
  
You're still not sure who. You just woke up there at some point in a stupid lace up tshirt thing with a whole load of shit stuck in your arm. Attempts to pull said shit out of your arm simply resulted in them being stuck back in in a different spot and whoever the fuck the nurse was (some troll bitch with a load of tattooes and bits of metal stuck in her face) explaining to you in the most patronising tone possible that Yo+u're dehydrated, ho+ney, and yo+u need to+ calm do+wn so+ I can put the IV back in. You eventually quietened and let her have at it. After all, you'd had worse.  
  
That and admittedly you didn't really have the energy to throw a tantrum.  
  
Anyway, you didn't spend too long there. The "IV" didn't last too long (you still don't get the point of it in the first place), your wound healed up, and eventually they gave you some actual clothing. You had your robot leg inspected too. This was a different troll, a guy with a chronic sweating problem and a broken horn and a personality that made you want to break the other one.  
  
"Shoddy." He had mumbled, wiping his forehead (ew gross) and tinkering with your leg, opening parts up with his screwdriver and tugging and pulling and generally being a nuisance.   
  
"Absoloutely shoddy. The materials are weak and it's not attached properly at all. How long has this been vaguely adhered to your limb?"  
  
"A while." You'd mumbled, not making eye contact. "I did fine. Fuck you."  
  
"Such language." He tsked, and then pushed at it unexpectedly, making you cry out before you could stop yourself. "But then, I don't suppose I should expect anything else from one of your...standing."  
  
"Or not standin. He ain't standin at all wit' that shit." Commented the other troll in the room, some pink bitch, and you'd flipped her off in return. "Oy." She'd snapped. "Watch it shorty."  
  
Sweaty jerk troll simply ignored her completely. "Yes, your standing. As in your _unfortunate_ position on the hemospectrum. Though I suppose for a lowblood such as yourself, you did...reasonably adaquately."  
  
"I'm not a fucking  _troll._ " You snapped in return. "Your stupid rules, mean nothing to me. You are not  _above_ me. Nobody is." Asshole, you added mentally.  
  
"It is still the same principal. Now, if you would kindly stop with the profanity. It is disrupting my concentration."  
  
"Damn right." says pink troll. "He could quite eelsily make you kick yoshellf in the face if you keep pissin him off."  
  
"Thank you, Empress." And that was it. You zoned out of _that_ conversation. Assholes.  
  
Anyway, after you got out of the infirmary, they gave you a bedroom to yourself, and that's generally where you spent most of your time. You didn't generally partake in most of the group activities. You didn't get why you should. As you mentioned earlier, you do not wish to socialise. You don't really like anyone here.  
  
....Except Dirk.  
  
Well that's a nice way to bring you back to present day.  
  
And look who's here!  
  
He does have the courtesy to knock, and then just... comes in anyway. You don't move, not even to look at him. He responds by leaning against the door.  
  
"Alright. What's wrong."  
  
You still don't look at him. "Nothing. I'm fine. What are you doing here."  
  
"I might, I don't know, be a tad fucking concerned." He snaps, and somehow ends up over by your bed, sitting himself down on it. "Seriously, spill."  
  
"It's  _nothing_." You mumble. "Go away."  
  
He's silent, for a moment, and then he speaks up again. "...look. I understand, okay?"  
  
"Oh, understand  _what._ " You roll over and glare at him. "What, pray tell is this magical thing. That you understand, about me."  
  
"Calm down." He looks a very very little bit pissed off. "You're twelve. I know it's...probably hard growing up, right? Hard and nobody understands. Dude, I get it."  
  
"What the fuck is  _that_   supposed to mean."  
  
He sighs, and you can't help thinking he looks a tad uncomfortable. "...I mean." There's a pause, before he continues. "...Basically, to cut it short, I know there's a lot of weird shit happening in your body right now, and if you want any help, or you need to ask something...you can ask me, okay?"  
  
"Nothing weird's happening. What are you talking about."  
  
"Okay, I don't know how puberty works for your species, but I'm pretty fucking sure there's something."  
  
You shuffle awkwardly. You can see why he's uncomfortable.   
  
"And I'm willing to help you out, really. I mean, when I was twelve I would've appreciated someone around for this shit. And I know you're probably the same."  
  
"Why would I need help?" You sort of shuffle away from him, towards the wall.  
  
"I didn't say you needed help. I just said if you wanted to....talk about anything. Let me know."  
  
There's silence, for a moment, and you eventually respond with "Whatever."  
  
"Somehow I knew you were going to say that." He pauses again. "...Just between us, though. As...bros. Or whatever you've decided we are at the moment. Are you okay?"  
  
You want to scream and hit something (maybe him, possibly yourself) because you do not  _want_ to be "bros" (not in that context, anyway) and this is the  _exact_ problem you are having but you're fucked if you can tell  _him_ that.  
  
"Yes. I am fine. I do not require helping. Did you need something?"  
  
He sighs, and you know he doesn't believe you. "I told you, like, half an hour ago that lunch is ready. Now come on. It's gone cold and Jane's going to be pissed."  
  
"Fuck Crocker. Like I care." Like  _she_ cares whether you eat or not, anyway, but you decide not to mention this out loud for convinience reasons.  
  
"I would prefer it if you didn't. I mean I know you like chubby girls but I think that would make things kind of awkward."  
  
You don't even respond to that, and he grabs your wrist (not your hand, you notice. Your wrist. He's actually being considerate of your feelings and that somehow makes your face burn more than the handholding would) and pulls you off your bed and in the general direction of the stairs. "Seriously, come on."  
  
You look at him and vaguely wonder how the fuck you are going to survive this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that also sucked


	3. some life we've chosen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went to see rent today
> 
> can you tell

You now see why you haven't eaten much.  
  
It's because you  _can't._  It just sticks in your throat and you can't swallow properly; it's like you're constantly nervous. Ugh, this whole thing is like a giant clusterfuck of cliche bullshit that you have absoloutely no idea how to rid yourself of.  
  
It might help a little if Dirk had not taken the charming liberty of sitting himself in the chair next to yours to make sure you're actually eating.  Normally you would just leave the table and not have anything, but he's seemingly not going to let you get away with that, and after a few moments of awkward silence you sigh and take a portion of pasta bake.  
  
It takes a while for you to get through it, admittedly.   
  
It's very nice, though. You don't really want to admit that because despite Crocker's general physique being rather attractive to you, you haven't really spoken since that time you told her she was fat and attractive and then she fucked around with your juju and did the candy thing.  
  
You liked the candy thing. It was fun. Fucking computer man had to ruin it for you.  
  
Anyway yeah she kind of hates you now. Again, like you care. She's a dumb bitch anyway. You're not really too concerned about her feelings.  
  
(But privately, as much as you don't want to admit it,  _damn_  is she good at this cooking shit.)  
  
"....What are you doing."  
  
What he is doing apparently is dumping a whole heap of salad onto your plate. You raise an eyebrow.  
  
"I think I can decide for myself, what I wish to eat. And what I don't."  
  
"I told you. I haven't seen you eat anything in like a week. Eat the fucking salad. Enjoy it."  
  
You want to ask him why he cares again. He didn't answer that question last time.  
  
So you just sigh and mutter and make a big deal out of it (because you're good at tantrums. It's a valuable skill to have.) and when you figure out that he is paying absoloutely no attention to it you resign yourself to eating anyway.  
  
(Honestly, what's the  _point_  of throwing the damn tantrum if he's not going to pay you any attention.)

  
So after you've eaten, bregrudgingly (although it is nice to have something in your stomach) you're about to storm back off to your room when you feel Dirk grab your arm again.  
  
"What do you  _want_." You're exasperated, and it shows.   
  
Dirk sighs, and lets you go. "Look. I know something is wrong." You open your mouth and he cuts you off. "You don't have to tell me. But if you want to, I'm here, man."  
  
If he's free in between spending time with English, you think. Somewhat bitterly. You're allowed to be bitter. You're twelve.  
  
And then you notice the look on his face and it suddenly occurs to you that you said that out loud.  
  
And it suddenly occurs to you that Dirk and Jake are somehow, still a thing.  
  
Fuck this. You thought they broke up during the candy antics? (You don't care.)   
  
He opens his mouth to say something, but you don't give him the chance. You just turn on your heel and head outside.  
  
  
And now you're curled up in the shed. You're incredily busy, by the way. You have a lot to do. You're incredibly busy and you don't want anyone to disturb you and   
  
OKAY YOU'RE CRYING, ALRIGHT.  
  
Ugh. You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, freezing as you hear the door open.  
  
"...Hello there."  
  
You turn and glare at this intruder, and hell no, it's Sweaty McAsshole mark two. This time featuring stupid gogglehat.   
  
"Fuck off. I'm busy."  
  
"Yes, you do look busy. Very much busy, in fact." He kneels down next to you. "I see you have taken a liking to my laboratory."  
  
"Your what." It's a fucking shed, you think. Laboratory your  _ass_.  
  
"I build robots here." He straightens himself out, sitting next to you, and shit he's tall. "Would you like to look?"  
  
You nod.   
  
He pulls you up by your wrist (word travels fast, apparently?) and leads you over to the corner of the shed. It's pretty big. You hadn't noticed.  
  
In said corner is a robot that looks like a troll. She has little pointy horns and round orange eyes, and the thing you notice is that she's wearing actual clothes. "Technically I did not build her." Sweaty Asshole Troll Two mumbles. "My dancestor did. I have simply made some changes. For example, I upgraded her system and changed her horns, among other things."  
  
"Why did you change the horns."  
  
Sweaty Troll Two: Electric Boogaloo sighs and pushes his goggles up, wiping his face. Ew, double gross. How gross is this family. "....She was supposed to be a robot version of his dead matesprit." At least, I think she was his matesprit, he mutters, but you don't take much notice.  
  
"What's a matesprit." You say.  
  
"It's like a....girlfriend. A loved one."  
  
You raise a non-existant eyebrow. "He made a robot. Out of his bitch." Wow, creepy ass motherfucker.  
  
....Why is he laughing.  
  
"Good heavens." He chortles, and wipes his forehead again. "Oh, no, no. Aradia was not Equius'..."bitch". I can assure you. In fact, I feel it was more the other way around."  
  
"That's pathetic." You start to say, and then pause in midst of your misogynistic rant. "Equius?"  
  
"My dancestor." He takes the hat off completely now, and you blink. Damn. You've never seen that sort of mullet/ ponytail combo before. It looks kind of odd. "He's very." A pause. "Very."  
  
"He's a complete asshole." You say, vaguely remembering your days in the infirmary.  
  
"He's opinionated." Is the reply. "He is still very young. He will grow out of it."  
  
You shuffle a little. "He told me my leg was shoddy."  
  
Sweaty Troll The Sequel kneels down, grabbing his goggles and sliding them back on, taking another look. "...It looks alright to me." He looks up, and you internaly cringe. He's knelt down and he's still almost your height. Fuck, you hate being so short.  
  
"He gave me a new one." You reply in a monotone.  
  
"Ah. Well, I'm sure the other one wasn't so bad!" He beams at you, and straightens up. "Did you make it yourself?"  
  
You nod. It's not really a lie. You made the gold one yourself. And you don't want to think about Dirk right now.  
  
(Okay, maybe the gold leg was just your other leg painted gold. Shut the fuck up.)  
  
"Excellent." He all but beams at you. "It's always nice to meet others with the same interest in robotics as me and my young Alternian relative share." He pronounces the cs a little bit weirdly. Sort of like a slurred x. Like human Sean Connery. Who you're not sure who is, you just know he speaks like that.  
  
There's a pause, then, and he fidgets a bit more.  
  
"...Do you like hoofbeasts?"  
  
You raise both non-eyebrows this time. "I don't know what those are."  
  
"...Horses, I believe the humans call them."  
  
"Oh." You shrug. "I'm. Indifferent, I guess."  
  
The smile wavers slightly, but he keeps it. "Ah. Well, that's alright. I'm sure you have a lot of other interests? Why don't you tell me about them while I work on Aradiabot here?"  
  
God, what a patronising fuck. He kneels down in front of the robot and quite rudely pulls her shorts down, starting to work on one of her legs. You squint at her crotch, open your mouth, and then decide the question isn't worth it. You already knew they were both creepy fuckers. This just cements it.  
  
Return Of The Sweaty Troll looks back at you for a moment, with the same patronising smile that he previously had. "Come on. I'm very interested."  
  
"I'm quite interested in world domination." You say, as flatly as you say most things.  
  
He drops his spanner. You smirk.  
  
"...That's lovely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that sucked too


End file.
